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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727130">closing time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbees/pseuds/spellingbees'>spellingbees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Famous Dream, M/M, Non-Famous GeorgeNotFound, Retail AU, george works at a grocery store, ill add more tags as i go guys dont worry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:56:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbees/pseuds/spellingbees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George worked in retail. It was boring, monotonous, and full of people who acted like they were being paid to annoy him. He wished they were.<br/>"Five minutes until closing," he called out to whoever had entered the store. He was tall, with hair that looked almost blonde in the harsh lighting of the store, but not quite light enough to be identified as such. His mouth was turned up in a small smile as he looked at George for a moment, then turned around to hurry down aisles of the store in search of whatever he had come to buy.</p><p>or; George works in a grocery store and he hates it and Dream is Dream</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>closing time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please don’t share this work with any content creators or repost it anywhere. As of right now, it is ONLY on this site.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George worked in retail. It was boring, monotonous, and full of people who acted like they were being paid to annoy him. He wished they were. At least then they would have a reason to bother him.</p><p>He yawned, quickly checking his phone behind the counter before someone else stepped up to check out. 10:26 pm. Closing time wasn't for another thirty four minutes.</p><p>George hated his job. This didn't come as much of a surprise to anyone, not even his boss or coworkers. They didn't care. What he hated most though, was the closing shift. There was nothing worse to him than having to collect money from the registers and then distribute change for the next day, then going down the aisles and make sure items weren't all over the floor. Pushing the big broom around the floor had been fun for the first day, when he was new and the excitement of finally having a job hadn't worn off. Now it was just another task in the way of him getting home to his bed and his cat.</p><p>A pair of girls who looked to be about seventeen stepped up to the register with a few bags of candy, chips, and a six-pack of Monsters.</p><p>"Is that all for you?" George asked, only because he was supposed to.</p><p>"Uh, yeah," one of the girls said. As he scanned their items, the other girl pulled out her phone and started typing. The first girl's phone made a noise, and she pulled it out as well. She snorted, pressing her lips together in an effort not to laugh. She then looked at George, who only raised his eyebrows slightly in response. He didn't even want to know what they thought was so funny. He hated children.</p><p>"That'll be thirteen dollars and ninety-seven cents." The first girl handed him a debit card.</p><p>"Have a nice night," George said after shoving their things into a plastic bag and handing it to them. The two girls made their way out of the store, stifling giggles. George rolled his eyes and checked his phone again. It was still only 10:31.</p><p>Minutes passed and George stared at the balloons that were kept by the check-out. They were a pain in the ass. Small children, and even not-so small children, loved nothing more than to pull at the strings tied to them, watching the helium bring them back up. The balloons were made of an ugly, crinkly material, and half of them weren't even firm anymore because of their loss of helium. Every time someone walked by, they'd move a bit. One of them read "It's A Girl" and was looking quite close to sinking to the ground. Which implied that there was actually quite a lack of girls as of late. Or maybe it was just that nobody wanted those ugly balloons.</p><p>George checked his phone again, earning a glare from a coworker from across the store when he looked up. 10:53. He had spaced out for quite a bit. The store was dead.</p><p>He rubbed at his eyes, yawning once more. He was so tired and ready to go home. Footsteps could be heard to his left.</p><p>"Five minutes until closing," he called out to whoever had entered the store, monotone as ever. Of course, now of all times, someone had decided to come in.</p><p>"So sorry, I'll be out of your hair in just a minute," a voice replied. George whipped his head around to see who it had come from. Most people would have ignored him, or even replied with some annoyed confirmation.</p><p>George made eye contact with a man. He was tall, with hair that looked almost blonde in the harsh lighting of the store, but not quite light enough to be identified as such. His mouth was turned up in a small smile as he looked at George for a moment, then turned around to hurry down aisles of the store in search of whatever he had come to buy.</p><p>George sighed, checking his phone yet again. 10:58. </p><p>The blonde man hurried up to the counter a few moments later, holding a six-pack of Red Bull, a small grocery bakery cake that he had gotten “2M” written on it and a a package of cat food. He placed the items on the conveyor, the same small smile on his face as he waited for George to ring them up. </p><p>“Celebrating something?” George asked quietly. He could feel one of his co-workers staring at them. The store was meant to have closed a few minutes ago. </p><p>“Uh, what? Oh, yeah. A milestone of sorts. Sorry, your accent threw me off. Didn’t notice it when I first came in.” </p><p>“Yeah, tends to happen. A milestone? In the millions?”</p><p>The man reddened slightly, running a hand through his hair. He eyed his items, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. </p><p>“Oh, you know...”</p><p>“That’ll be $17.90,” George said after a moment, realizing he wasn’t going to elaborate. </p><p>“Thanks. See you around,” the man said after paying. He shot George a final smile a hurried out of the store. George checked his phone. 11:06.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading, it means so much!! Please feel free to leave kudos or a comment, they’re so lovely to read and feedback is always appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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